It was a near disaster, as I lost my list somewhere between the car and the first store, and couldn't find it when I retraced my steps. There was no time to go home and reconstruct it, so I had to rely on memory— a chancy strategy even at the best of times. Since returning home I have recalled one item in particular I'd wanted but forgot, and there are undoubtedly others. I picked up a couple of things I know were not on the list, but still spent slightly less money than I'd expected. Forgetting ones list is one way to economize, I suppose, but I wouldn't recommend it.
If forgetting things was an Olympic event I'd be gold.
Now I'm going to eat something because I'm pretty sure I'll be falling asleep early tonight, and I hate to sleep on an empty stomach. Especially my own.
Sunday Verse
Sleep Door
by Kazim Ali
a light knocking on the sleep door
like the sound of a rope striking the side of a boat
heard underwater
boats pulling up alongside each other
beneath the surface we rub up against each other
will we capsize in
the surge and silence
of waking from sleep
you are a lost canoe, navigating by me
I am the star map tonight
all the failed echoes
don't matter
the painted-over murals
don't matter
you can find your way to me
by the faint star-lamp
we are a fleet now
our prows zeroing in
praying in the wind
to spin like haywire compasses
toward whichever direction
will have us